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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414337">The End</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megashark/pseuds/Megashark'>Megashark</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ice [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Death, Gaslighting, Gore, Malnutrition, Manipulation, Nightmares, PTSD, Poison, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:41:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megashark/pseuds/Megashark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Brianna Lamore (OC), 145th Victor of the Hunger Games from District 2 (AU)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ice [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160795</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The final moments of the 145th Hunger Games. (Warning: Death, Violent, Poisoning, Blood/Gore)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>End of the 145th Hunger Games</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arena: Desert</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Final Tributes: Troy Avalos District 2 (18M), Poisoned, Brianna Lamore District 2 (16F), Dehydrated/Minor Injuries</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brianna scrambled down from the tree. It was covered in long spines, but she took little care to avoid them, and when her feet touched the sand beneath her, long scrapes along her cheek, neck, arm and side bled freely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A deadly mistake she would never have made just a day earlier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Didn’t matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started forward, then paused. Shaking, from exhaustion, from hunger, from horror, she turned to the tree, assessing the strange long branches covered in long needles. It took her what felt like forever to wrestle one of the lower arms off of the strange mutated plant, and she ended up stumbling back, barely catching herself before she could fall, a long spined branch in her grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning once more, she followed the sound of the screams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart pounded furiously in her ears. She couldn’t feel her injuries any more, surely a bad sign, as nothing in the arena could be a good sign. Her vision swam and she wondered if she would make it. Maybe the screams weren’t from her District partner. Maybe it was the arena drawing her out, to finally kill her. Or maybe she hallucinated them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she was the one screaming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The desert itself was beautiful in a strange austere sort of way. Rolling hills of pale sand, with tall green trees speckled along the landscape. She knew those trees very well, had lived in them, navigating the danger they presented carefully, up until now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made it up one hill. Then another. Then finally, reaching the top of the last hill she looked down at the Oasis. The Cornucopia, gold and covered in green vines to the right. Below, and all around the golden trove of weaponry,  sand gave away to soft grass and beautiful tiny flowers. And water, the only water Brianna had seen within the arena during her time there. It wasn’t a lot, and the pool of water wasn't deep. It was clear, and it glittered in the searing sun. Softer, more gentle plant life crowded around the brilliant source of life. Brianna passed these delicate beacons of life, dragging the needled branch behind her. Walked carefully around the water, not giving it more than a momentary glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There it was. Finally. The source of the screaming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was massive. That had been what she thought when she had seen him volunteer. Muscles and long blond hair that he had tied back. In an interview he had been asked if he would cut his hair before going into the arena. He had smiled, with vicious charisma, and said no. Of course not. None of the other tributes were tall enough to reach his golden locks anyway, and none would get close enough to try. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been so sure. The audience had laughed, agreeing. Nothing could take down that goliath. Eighteen years old, the best that any of the Districts had to offer. The other Careers had flocked to him in awe, and delight. Brianna had watched from the shunned sidelines, scrawny, terrified, wondering what would happen when she encountered that terrible force in the arena. How he would kill her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The muscles she noticed now were along Troy’s neck. They stood out, more than she remembered. Because of the screaming. He thrashed, weakly now, in a pool of his own vomit. His eyes were wide, and staring, and blood trickled down from them, down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitated, just out of reach, shaking. How could someone scream like that. And for so long. Why hadn’t the lizards come for him? They had come for the others, why not him, why not...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just wanted it to stop. It had to stop. The sound seemed to shimmer around the flailing form, vibrate along the ground between them. It was killing her, that terrible sound. Her eyes blurred. He looked so pathetic. So terrible, so grotesque. The screaming rattled her to the core, and she just wanted it to stop.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thrashed to the side, and saw her. At that moment Brianna saw something shine in one of his hands. A broken glass bottle. Froth and blood dripped from his lips, from his nose. He reached out towards her and she saw bits of the glass had stabbed into his skin. Broken bits lay along the grass and sand, glittering. She turned her head, slowly, towards the water. A parachute drifted along the surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screaming rose and fell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t stand it anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her shaking had stopped. She couldn’t see his face anymore, only the screaming filling the air. She stepped forward, and one powerful hand grabbed her ankle in a terrible force. He was still so strong. The branch rose and fell, slamming into the side of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scream turned into something else. A sound that was somehow worse. The grip on her ankle fell away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cannon went off, but she could still hear the screams echo, and that sound. The sound of the spikes, the branch hitting…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brianna opened her hand and stepped back. Her hands slowly rose to her ears. It was supposed to stop now. That sound. It was supposed to STOP NOW. She sank to her knees, eyes closed, clutching the side of her head and curling inway, trying to escape.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Surprised</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “You aren’t going to make it. My advice? Try to make sure it's quick. Run for a weapon in the Bloodbath. Or maybe run off, find a cliff or something to jump off of. Look kid, I’m not trying to be an asshole, really, it's just,  clearly, someone doesn’t want you to survive and let me be clear, I can’t work miracles, so I’m just going to focus my efforts where it will actually do some good.” - Vincent DeLorey, District 2 Victor, Pre-Game Pep Talk </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Everyone in the hospital was so delighted. Beaming, smiling faces. They were so happy for her. They were so eager to hear her secrets. What an unexpected Games! She had them all fooled before the Games, she had everyone thinking she was weak! Powerless! Everyone was so surprised she had made it. SO surprised! No one thought she would win! Who could have? Brianna had never encountered nurses so eager to talk about something other than the care they were supposed to be giving her. They didn't ask her how she felt, they just administered aide as they saw fit and chattered on and on about things she didn't want to remember or think about or have any part of. </p><p> </p><p>Time jumped and bobbed. Surely some of it found her unconscious, but Brianna did not remember dreams. At first, any time she wasn't aware she was in the hospital room, she was back in the arena, and everything was screaming. The trees, the sand, the lizards. Sometimes she was in the hospital room and the walls were screaming. Sometimes the walls had scales and moved like lizard flesh, and the ground was made of sand. She didn't react to these events, just stared abound her, emotions locked inside of her mind, absorbing hallucination and reality alike motionless on her hospital bed, doing as she was told when people entered to help her heal, to praise her, to remind her what she was now.</p><p> </p><p>On one day, when the hospital walls were made of steel and stone and nothing was screaming, Brianna starred ahead as a stylist played with her hair, teasing out tangles and and a nurse applied lotion to her arms and face, to ease away and heal the burns that covered every visible part of her. They were saying the same things that all the other said. That perhaps they themselves had said. </p><p> </p><p>They like everyone else, were so surprised. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s been awhile since we had a really clever Victor! I think that's why they all underestimated you. I bet on you you know. Oh not at first, who would have! But after you used the lizards to kill the District 4 tribute, Palos. That was so smart! Everyone always thinks that the Careers have to be so strong, you know, physically, but it's just so fun to see something unexpected happen! Bet those Careers wished they had paid more attention to you before! Well once they realized how hard it was going to be to kill you! And you outsmarted them all!” </p><p> </p><p>The words flowed around her, meaningless. Clever. Was she clever? Brianna didn’t remember being clever. Only afraid. So afraid. And desperate, she had certainly been desperate.</p><p> </p><p>Lucky. She may have been...lucky. The thought of considering herself lucky made her shudder. </p><p> </p><p>It's what Vincent had told her. He was just outside of the hospital room now. She could see him through the room's window, as the stylists and nurses bustled around her. </p><p> </p><p>She had barely been awake when he had entered her hospital room for the first time once her games ended. The screaming still echoed around her, making her jumpy, and terrified.  The sedatives the hospital staff had given her just started to sink in when the familiar tall and willowy form had come in, hovering next to her bed, arms folded in front of him. She couldn’t make out his expression, but she had recognized the scent of eucalyptus that always wafted from the middle aged Victor who had been in charge of training her that year.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Never seen someone with so much dumb luck. This is going to be such a pain in the ass to deal with. Good job though, I mean, heh, who would have thought right?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>How long ago since that moment and now? How much time had passed since she had been lifted from the arena, Brianna wondered now, trying to ignore what the stylists were saying about her. The wonder was distant. Still heavily sedated, she couldn’t connect with her feelings the way she had been able to before entering the arena. There was a dim unease at this, a sense that she was in danger. Not because she missed her emotional turmoil, but because the sedatives also made her sluggish, her responses slow, her mind mulling over every dilemma for too long before drawing any conclusions. </p><p> </p><p> In the arena, it would have been important to keep track of how much time was passing, but looking back she couldn’t keep track of what had happened when. Even now, she could not put it all together, how much time had gone by while the desert burned her by day, and froze her at night. Some of it was bright, clear and stark. And some stood out only in emotional blurs of fear, highlights of memories that swarmed and switched around in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The first moment she had entered the arena was seared in her memory. Standing on a circle of metal, shaking with terror, eyes large as she looked around at the Oasis, at the towering Cornucopia. Met the eyes of Troy. His smile had been so terrifying she considered for a moment her ‘mentor’s advice. If she just stepped off her spot, stepped off the platform early, she would die. And whatever the Careers had planned for her would never come to pass.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But she hadn’t stepped off that platform. Not until the time ran out. Running on adrenaline, not thinking at all, she had run for a bag. She had grabbed it, and looked over to see the District One girl, Emma, kick a kid's legs out from beneath them, then bring a blade down to sink into their chest. Just beyond that, Emmas District Parter, a wiry boy with brown hair, bright green eyes, who Brianna remembered had laughed at everything in his interviews. She couldn’t think of his name as she watched him charge after the District 11 tributes, tackling one of them and bringing a knife down onto the back of their neck.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Brianna grabbed her bag, turned and a fist slammed into her face, sending her tumbling to the ground, the bag she had grabbed flying out of her grip, out of reach. Death stared down at her, as the District Four Career tribute Everlee brought a hammer down towards her face. And then another tribute stumbled right into Everlee, a young girl from District Six, hard enough to cause the Career to fall over, dropping her hammer as she lost her balance.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Brinna scrambled across plants, grass, sand. Up, up, up the hill, away from the crying, and the laughter. She reached the top and turned. Everlee was killing the girl who had run into her.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Troy had Benjamin, from District 12, in a headlock. The only other 18 year old Reaped that year. Troy looked up as she stared down at him in horror. Blood had splashed across his arms, legs, and the side of one cheek. He brought the short sword up and across Benji’s throat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Brianna stumbled back, eyes blurring with tears.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “RUN AWAY BRIANNA! WE ARE COMING FOR YOU!” Troy laughed, sword pointing her direction.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Brianna snapped back into the present, freezing as she realized the room had grown quiet. Terror tried to claw its way past the drugged sense of nonchalance, and she looked around at the three other people in the room, two nurses and a stylist who was holding a spray bottle. </p><p> </p><p>“Well? Did you?” The stylist asked, and they all stared at her expectantly. </p><p> </p><p>Brianna scrambled to try and think what they had been talking about. Even before the arena, her people skills had been lacking. Homeschooled, hidden inside from the rest of her District for sixteen years, left her without a good sense of what to say when. “I’m sorry, I missed what you were saying,” her voice sounded strange. Dreamy, drifting, emotionless. Bored. </p><p> </p><p>The nurses laughed and the stylist gave a huff. “I SAID, did you KNOW that you are being called the most successful Victor ever to emerge from the arena in some circles?” Brianna tilted her head to the side, her brows knitted together. </p><p> </p><p>“What does that mean?” She blurted out her confusion, though the words were still distorted. She realized with some shame that she sounded...well. Rude. </p><p> </p><p>“It MEANS, well LOOK at you! Dehydrated, a couple scrapes but no broken bones! Really the dehydration and the sunburns were the worst of it, but you managed to avoid every mutant trap and even turn some to your advantage!” the stylist giggled. “Maybe they should make YOU a Gamemaker huh?” </p><p> </p><p>Brianna jerked back, her lip curling at the thought. Or she tried to. Instead she just ended up leaning back too far, staring up at the ceiling. The nurses fussed at this, moving her back to a sitting position and then continuing to apply lotions, as the stylist sprayed her hair with something that smelled like flowers. She found herself staring passed them, too out of it to reply to any further questions, putting all her energy towards not remembering anything else about the arena. It took her a long moment to see that Vincent had turned from pacing while talking on his phone outside, to watching her. His expression was almost blank, but there was something that sent a chill down her spine. Of course, Brianna told herself, she was probably imagining it. </p><p> </p><p>She was out of the arena. And there was no reason for Vincent to be afraid.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Warning and Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The stylist didn't come back. The one who thought she would make a good Gamemaker. Brianna kept an eye out for them, because those words felt so terrible to hear, that someone would watch her in the Hunger Games and think she was someone who loved it so much they’d want to be part of creating those horrors for others. Torture others. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sedatives are given less and less and her emotions  began to emerge once more, and as that happened,  Brianna’s patience for the bubbly babbling words became less. She became better at ignoring when others are talking to her. She was tired of hearing people tell her how surprised they are at her performance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time became more stable, so Brianna knew it was five days since the stylist disappeared when her mentor, Vincent, visited her for the first time instead of pacing around outside of her room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Victors come in all sizes and shapes, but Vincent has always looked particularly comfortable in the role, even amongst other Victors from Career districts who are supposed to look comfortable in their roles. Today he wore a purple and dark blue striped suit, and a dark blue tie, and his silver and black hair looked artfully messy. His expression, a wry grin, was one that Brianna had never seen directed at her, and it set her on edge. Gathering her blankets around her, and scooting back against her bed so she can sit on the edge farthest from her visitor, she waited to see what the man who was certainly the MOST surprised to have seen her survive had to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seem to be doing well. Healing up fast. They are going to send you out to interviews soon, and you need to be ready for the questions they’ll ask,” Vincent said, stopping halfway across the room, his brown eyes staring daggers at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you make it sound like such a bad thing. That I’m doing well,” Brianna replied quietly, looking down at her hands. Today they were covered in gauze, the last of the healing was supposed to only take a few more days, with the burns anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You surprised everyone. I’m sure you’ve heard,” Vincent drawled, after a long pause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brianna nodded, her shoulders hunched a bit. Long strands of dark brown hair hung in front of her, covering her face a bit, giving her a childish sense of security. She had survived so much, but talking to her mentor still intimidated her for some reason. Still, this was important, and she had to push past fear and doubt to ask him important questions, because she couldn’t shake the feeling she was still in danger, and not just from the times the walls seemed to flicker and turn into falling sand and snapping teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A lot of people probably bet against me. Lost a lot of money,” she glanced up at Vincent then, forcing herself to try and read his expression. “Probably a lot of people aren’t happy about that.” People with power. People from the Capitol. She had been thinking it over, ever since she had seen Vincent watching her with that strange expression. Had come up with a few theories, each she liked least than the last. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surprise crossed his face, giving Brianna a sick sense of validation. Her stomach churned. She had been right. Important people would be angry at her then. When Vincent spoke, her stomach tightened further with growing dread. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t show this initiative before the games started. Didn’t seem to know what was going on around you at all. Seemed like you were a goner. At no point, while watching the Games, or the interviews, or the training sessions,  did I, or anyone else, from what I can see, think you had any chance to survive,” Vincent said slowly. He walked toward her, her voice lowering. “Not from the moment your name was called, and the cameras caught sight of you, could anyone have had any doubts you would be bloodbath fodder kid.” His voice was so low, it was hard to hear, but the whispered words caused Brianna’s shoulders to hunch further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent cleared his throat.  “Anyway,” his voice was no longer quiet. Not shouting, but not difficult to hear. “They will definitely ask you questions about if all of this was a strategy from the beginning. And I’d lean into the narrative if I were you. I know I’ll be implying as much, and have been in fact, in my own interviews. You were a weapon that would only work with the ignorance of everyone else, is how I put it. A Career in hiding. That explains everything to everyone's liking. Capitol doesn't like the unknown. They want a Career to have won this do you understand, so it's a  good thing a Career did win this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of pretending to be a Career made her skin crawl. Brianna hated the Careers. She had always been unnerved, watching the games, at the tributes who trained for murder, who volunteered for the arena. And her aunt who had raised her, sheltered her in the strange shadowed house where she had been homeschooled, had ranted and raved about the psychotic murderous children that made up what she was told, the majority of those her age. Told Brianna to keep her distance from kids her age because more likely than not, they were trained killers. Brianna had never bought into it. Outside of the games, kids didn't just run around killing other kids. They COULDNT. Her aunt was always saying how careful everyone had to be to follow the rules that the Capitol made up, well murder was a pretty big law. Brianna had been nervous about her neighbors due to her shy nature and lack of experience with conversation outside her household, but she had assumed that, if she ever were given the opportunity to enjoy their company without the older woman’s looming shadow, that they would just be normal kids like her, who were just being trained because, well, someone had to go to the hunger games. In fact, watching children play outside her window, watching them volunteer year after year for the games, Brianna had actually felt a fair amount of gratitude for those stronger than herself. Had always been grateful to those children, braver than she was, for saving her from ever having to endure the fear that she could be Reaped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been so stupid. What she felt towards the five tributes who had formed the Career Pack in the arena she had survived bordered on madness her hate felt so strong. For a moment she thought she might vomit. Her hands clenched on the blankets around her, and she stared at Vincent, trying to find an acceptable response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They...they tried to interview your aunt when you made it into the last part of the arena as well,” Vincent said, his voice gruff, and he looked away from her then, towards the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brianna sat up straighter. “What? Why? What happened?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent shrugged. “Sometimes they’ll do that. Not usually, but if something unexpected happens in an arena, they’ll reach out to the family. You were such an unknown, that some high up important figure decided to reach out to her, to give the people of Capitol some insight into who you were, how you were doing...what you were doing. Your aunt's footage never made it on air. I know about it because I have friends in the Capitol but whatever she said seems to have upset some people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I bet, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Brianna thought, trying to imagine her aunt's reaction to anyone from the Capitol trying to question her. A sudden surge of anger simmered under the surface at the realization that her aunts testimony to the people of the Capitol could have summoned support from some Capitolites, could have earned her rewards from the fickle entities who donated to the tributes in the arena and bought them precious commodities such as water and food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I lost people some money. And my aunt has made others think I’m...what? Someone who hates the Capitol?” And how would the Capitol like that? They wouldn’t of course. Victors always looked so happy in their interviews, but growing up in the household she had, Brianna had heard horrible things about the survivors of the hunger games. Hard to know what was true and what was fantasy, but now that she was one of them, she knew that at least some of what she’d been told was true. Who could survive that and come out whole?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d bet that District two isn’t too happy with you either. You know Troy was the one they wanted to win,” Vincent said, chuckling a bit, still looking to the side. "That kid is from some rich family, runs most of the Training Centers and a couple schools in the District. Er. Was."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then it hit her. How she had ended up in the Hunger Games. How an untrained sixteen year old with almost no chance at victory, from a Career District had ended up in the Games. There was only one way that could happen. In a District that never failed to have numerous volunteers for the sick murder games that the Capitol loved so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had wanted her to die.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not just the Capitol. District 2. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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